Day 15: Saturday 4 September 2010 – Rodez, Layoule becomes a workshop
An early start to the day saw the boys restoring Boudie back to her former happy, healthy self. Much grease, banging and screwing in of floor boards, then cleaning of grease and remnant signs of Boudie’s recent ‘surgery’.
Bronnie watched on whilst staying busy, before announcing a serious bout of ‘camp fever’, resulting in the team wandering down to the river around 17h00 in the heat of the afternoon, where they watched families and children enjoying a family fun festival on the river and grass – it was so great to see kids playing kids games and laughing, more especially as the teenagers were running the show! Martin walked off to a bar he found on previous walk about 2ks away – to find it ‘ferme’ so had to walk back to camp.
Day 16: Sunday 5 September 2010 – Time to leave Rodez for south of France, Cassis
Heading SE, the little convoy of a yellow and a blue Landy set off in the direction of Marseilles. It was a perla day, with extraordinarily high spirits having Boudie back on the road, Bronnie gleefully at the wheel.
En route we traversed the new Millau Viaduct over the scenic Millau Valley – stopped for photo opportunities and coffee – an unbelievable piece of engineering and stunning scenery.
The day got hotter and hotter, but Boudie proudly strutted her stuff as they headed up and down windy passes, past chateaux and treasured chapelles, crossing the little Rhone and the ‘big’ Rhone rivers past some truly picturesque French villages and vineyards.
A yummy, cool, crunchy chicken salad was enjoyed at a large fruit & veg farm stall located at a barren cross roads, whilst the temperature continued to rise.
Overnight at a very crowded French campsite (Les Cigales a Cassis), on the seriously magnificent Cote d’ Azure, above the village of Cassis – recommended to all who travel to the south of France, and worthy of a repeat visit allowing more time to walk the white cliffs, loll in the cool, clean Mediterranean, possibly kayak and sample more sensational Provence fare in colourful, narrow streets. It was unanimously agreed that we could so get used to this life style.
Day 17: Monday 6 September 2010 – Cassis to St Tropez
Yet another glorious day which started with Boudie towing Tasca out of the tight little camp site in order to ‘jump start’ her, due to her flat battery as a result of the ‘fridge kill switch’ having been inadvertently left on overnight!!
Late departure from Cassis. Hot! Hot! Very, very hot – trying not to think about Africa’s heat in the near future! We missed too many photo opportunities climbing the narrow cliff road out of Cassis. Instead, we devoured the unbelievably beautiful views of the bay, cliffs and old stone homes and painted chapels strewn along the way, interspersed with blue and gold onion domes on Orthodox churches. The Cote d’Azur offers a succession of exceptional vistas and grandiose sites which form one of the most ‘prestigious’ shores in the world.
Leaving the coast behind us once more, we passed countryside of vineyards and typical Province architecture. Up and down many more tight passes, where we tailed a white cladded peloton for some time. The scenery dominated by white cliffs we headed toward Toulon, which was very unimpressive!
St Tropez – what a serious disappointment. Tons of tourists and posers.... the little Bridget Bardot beach was, frankly, not worth stopping for. We took the heat off the day by quickly licking our way through a berry sorbet, whilst watching men play boule in a big tree lined square.
It would seem that the very laid back French spend their days drinking cafe-au-lait in their regular Cafe’s, progressing to dejeuner (strictly 12-2pm) before pulling their shutters for siesta. Then its leisurely dinners in sidewalk cafe’s – not surprising that as a nation they have a low heart attack statistic. Oh, and did we mention the moderate quaffing of red wine daily? Yes, we could learn from their lifestyle!
Much later in the day we pulled into the shady, pine leaf covered floor of La Muy campsite - tired, hot, and somewhat prickly.
Day 18: Tuesday 7 September 2010 – Le Muy to heaven (Parco delle Alpi Maritime)
Boudie purred contentedly up and down yet more Alpine passes – a welcome cooler day – through Cannes (as disappointing as St Tropez – what do film stars do here, apart from posing?)
On to Juan-Les Pins, recommended by ‘uncle’ Ruxton – tranquil, charming town on the Cote d’ Azur. Cool drizzle, limiting photo opportunities, but not memories – stunning Province-style affluent homes along the coast similar to Carmel, California. Had dejeuner in a ‘chic’ sea front restaurant – revelling in our abundance and freedom. We wandered through the various squares back to the car, breathing in the good energy of the town.
Onto Cap d’Antibes – a good-looking town – then onto sprawling Nice with dozens of old, beautiful buildings. Hazy vistas enjoyed from a-top the pass, with definite thoughts of spending time here again (not unlike Marseilles).
Onward and upward over astounding azure stained misting cliffs. As we moved away from the coast again, up more passes, and through more captivating villages, we were astutely conscious of the art of ancient builders who creatively integrated fortresses into chiselled rock faces. The village of Eze, beckoned us whole heartedly to linger a while – luring us there initially with the sight of the charming castle-hotel sculptured onto the cliff, literally teetering on the edge of “Le Grand Corniche” mountain range. Checking our watches, we wondered if it was time yet, for a glass of red?
Later in the afternoon cafe-au-lait on a street cafe, in the misty mountain top village of La Turbie – historic, beautiful.... “tempus fugit”.... oh for more time!!
Photographed a gorgeous, blond, curly headed little girl, with promises to email her mom the pic on our return to Cape Town (Galliane - tomatoesgg@hotmail.com), before visiting the chacuterie for chicken breasts and the boulangerie for fresh mushrooms for supper.
Our “Ethel” now having set course for La Mas Fleuri camp, high in the Alps. We have never experienced such a twisty, windy, stunning mountain climb avec impatient, rude and yes, risqué French drivers!! We were amazed by the old stone tunnel ‘de Castillon’ - 790m long – which emerged into an even more picturesque village of Sospel, at a crossroads in the valley of the Parc National du Mercantour (the Alps Maritimes).
Camped at La Mas Fleuri – loads of bikers from Germany (not surprising given the very tight Alpine passes). An electric Alpine thunderstorm in the night soaking our camp chairs and just hung out washing. A lesson learned? Or not?
Day 19: Wednesday 8 September 2010 – Sospel to Monte Carlo and Genova
Morning cafe-au-lait and croissants in Sospel village, watching life happen.
In 1388, Sospel turned itself over to the Counts of Savoy. Rich houses, busy shopping streets, fairs and markets bore witness to the prosperity of this little village in the valley, which sheltered some 3,000 inhabitants at the time. In spite of the epidemics and wars of the 17th and 18th centuries, the governors of the city led “Sospello” to the peak of its glory. The grandeur of the baroque era boasts the gracious old cathedral – the Chapelle des Penitents Blancs de la Sainte-Croix (16th century)– it’s facade restored in the traditional colours of Liguria, the chapels of the brotherhoods, the convents, royal college and private houses. “Of note is the marble Girabaldi wash room with al fresco murals” commented Richard.
Unfortunately due to revolutionary France and various wars, Sospel faced an ongoing decline over many years in both agriculture and animal rearing, resulting in a dwindling of locals and economies. Today Saspol is attracting tourists back to the rich heritage and beauty of this unique village through both cultural and outdoor activities.
From Sospal in the mountains back to the Cote d’ Azur and Monte Carlo – stopping above this renowned principality, we ogled at the view from above. Driving through the busy, hilly streets, Bronnie was taken with the good energy this affluent and beautiful city exuded, whilst Martin and Richard ‘raced’ some of the F1 Grand Prix roads through the city.
Once again time was the challenge, as our next stop Genova (Genoa), which would allow for 2 nights in one place before boarding the ferry to Tunis, was 104 miles away.
From Monte Carlo, through picturesque Menton towards Genova, we chased the cliffs of the Cote d’Azur, crossing into Italy through an ‘unmanned’ border. Immediately it felt ‘different’ being in Italy, with the initial 30 or so miles showing shabby little villages. The Italian Rivera – much like the Durban promenade – was disappointed until we’d venture further into Italy. Black volcanic beaches marked the difference with breath taking coastal scenery.
From Sospel to Genova camp, Bronnie kept her eyes peeled for a laundry to dry our cloths soaked from the storm the night before, but Martin kept on “trucking” towards Genova, promising to sort out the wet things the next day.
We arrived late at a camp site 18 miles from Genova – “chocka-block” with caravans and park homes, wedged between the sea / rail way line and a very high arched viaduct motorway (not unlike St James). Tents up, we headed for the local restaurant and Italian pizza’s and red wine – wonderful, and capped by a tremendous electrical storm, a deluge of rain, flooded paths and campsite. A taste of things to come?
We love our tents in this weather – safe, snug, dry! Till the morrow....
Day 20: Thursday 9 September 2010 – Genova wonders
We started the morning with on the cliff’s edge – absorbing the contrasts and colours. Martin held to his promise to sort out the washing and returned to our camp with washed, dried and ironed piles of clothing which we happily stacked on our ‘beds’ before heading for Genova in order to locate the ferry site and to spend the day exploring the old city. The sea as we drove, beckoned but so did our mission. Parked near Piazza Corvetto, we headed for a traditional lunch of pasta arrabiata pomadora before taking in the architectural sights and energy of the town.
Considerable time spent in the San Lorenzo Cathedral – magnificent in its marble splendour and colourful frescos. We lit lots of red tea-candles in manifestation for our journey ahead whilst acknowledging the tremendous thunder outside. Looking at one another we realised we’d left the one tent’s flaps open (this, after it had started out as a brilliant blue sky day and 36 degrees when we left camp). We added to our prayer requests that our ‘beds’ and washing would be as it was left earlier in the day – clean, dry and ironed - and headed outside to buy umbrellas.
Walking back to our vehicle we passed fellow traveller Christopher Columbus’ house and paid our respects to his courage and successes. On arrival at our Landies we were dismayed to find both vehicles had parking tickets (18 euro’s a piece!!) But then, we managed to avoid paying 67 euro’s per car on the autostrada – but that’s another story.
Alas, our ‘good fortune’ ran out at this stage. As we approached our campsite in Savona, we noted with dismay, the very wet roads. Yes, we are embarrassed to admit that one of our tents was completely drenched inside - both ‘beds’, floor mats and all Martins freshly ironed washing ready for Africa. The team went into great positive, collective mode mopping and preparing alternative dry sleeping options, whilst stashing the sodden sleeping bags and washing in bags and buckets, before heading for yet another delicious pizza and a bottle of Italian red, in readiness for an early start to board the ferry the next day.
Day 21: Friday 10 September 2010 – No return – Ferry from Genova to Tunis
04h45 the alarm ‘croaked’ the team into action – loading wet washing and wet tents in the Landies, we headed back to Genova for the ferry. Oooh la la! The Italians and their signage... what signage??? One arrow pointing east, the other close by, pointing west to the ferry. We went round and round in circles looking for the Grandi Navi Veloci ferry terminal. And this before we’d had our by now habitual early morning coffee.
Not to mention at the ferry border control that the ‘polizia’ insisted on keeping the door closed - there being no handle on the outside of the door! How on earth we wondered in amusement (from the queue inside) were travellers expected to get inside to fill out their passage forms?
Once on the 9 storey high ferry, Richard commented that this was it... “no turning back.” Africa was before us.
